With An Unforgivable
by Morgan Morai
Summary: She'd never grown up thinking of Draco Malfoy as someone who needed to be healed. He was her god. But that was before she saw him needlessly torture; before she saw the darkness in his soul. For the first time Astoria wondered if she even knew the boy she'd spent her childhood worshipping from afar; for the first time she realized broken things have the sharpest edges. long 1-shot
1. Chapter 1

**With An Unforgivable**

**Pt 1**

* * *

So I guess you could call this DracoAstoria long one-shot is my apology for pairing Draco with an OC in _Same As Hate _(which I'm still working on, I just haven't gotten a lot of feedback with it, so I took a quick break to please the masses and myself. I've really enjoyed writing this, it's been very therapeutic.)

Thanks to Ser Serendipity for looking over this for me.

(By the way, if you need a song to totally love/hate, _I Told You I Was Freaky _by Flight of the Conchords. I'm telling you.)

If this story has a soundtrack, it's _Beautiful Child _by Fleetwood Mac.

Without Further (Much) Ado (About Nothing):

* * *

From the very beginning, Astoria Greengrass's friends and relatives all agreed on one thing.

She was a Healer, through and through.

So who better to heal a broken man, old and beaten beyond his time? Who better, indeed?

She had never grown up thinking of Draco Malfoy as someone who needed to be healed. When she was young, he had never been so much as scarred (to _her_ worshiping eyes, anyway.)

In fact, Astoria's obsession with the Malfoy was something of a joke to her parents, her older sister Daphne, and to Daphne's friends. As one of them, Draco must have known about it. But in a manner rather unlike him, he never took advantage of Astoria. He even went so far as to gift her birthday and Christmas presents each year, which she treasured in a special box reserved for All Things Malfoy. (Her father called it the Boyfriend Box.)

And it had all started the day she turned five, the day Draco gave Astoria her first broomstick.

* * *

Astoria glanced at the slim, wooden broom dubiously. It floated above the snow at her waist. "And I..._ride_ it?"

Draco Malfoy's laughter pealed through the winter air and created a white cloud in front of his face. _"Merlin,_ Daphne, doesn't she even know a _thing_ about Quidditch? What have you been teaching her all these five years?"

"I _do _know about Quidditch!" Astoria insisted quickly, stomping her little foot on the crunchy snow. It only made the older kids laugh all the more cruelly, and tears of shame began to swim in her blue eyes.

In an instant Draco was on his knees by her side, handing her a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket. "Hey, now, don't cry, Tori," he pleaded, and wrapped an arm around her. "We didn't mean it. I'll even teach you about Quidditch," he offered earnestly.

With the skepticism only children possess, she eyed him over, removing the damp cloth from her face. "Promise?"

"With an Unforgivable," he swore, giving her a big wink. And she believed him.

* * *

He was in France for her eighth birthday, but he sent her a letter and a gift, all the same.

_Dear Tori,_

_I hope you like the book on healing I sent you. It belonged to my great-great-grandmother, or something like that. Father wasn't really sure._

_Happy birthday, of course. Just think, in two years you'll be ten, and after ten comes eleven and you'll be in Hogwarts before you know it. Promise not to forget me when you meet your first beaux? (Just as long as he isn't in Gryffindor.)_

_Yours always,_

_DM_

She used a shrinking spell so she could carry it around in her locket wherever she went, next to a picture of him.

_Of course I won't forget you._

* * *

"But I want _that_ one," Astoria pleaded, desperately gesturing to the emaciated grey kitten in Eeylop's Owl Emporium and Magical Menagerie.

"Please, Tori, it's _sick," _Daphne insisted with typical impatience. "Pick another one and let's go."

Astoria wanted to snap that it wasn't _her_ fault Mom and Dad had sent her with Daphne's group to go shopping and she had no friends her own age to go with, but she was too caught up in her obsessive need for the creature to be nasty.

"Daphne! Let me have it!" Her voice had taken on a near-wild scream. "It _needs_ me!"

"Oh, let her have it," Draco drawled, his back turned to them as he studied an impressive, pure-black owl.

"Fine!" Daphne exploded dramatically, gesturing for an employee to assist them. "Just don't come crying to _me _when it dies."

Lit up with delight, Astoria ran to squeeze Draco and backed away, blushing furiously when she realized what she'd done. He smiled, the rest laughed.

"Here you go, young lady."

Disregarding the container's function, the eleven-year-old scooped the bony animal out and cuddled it against her neck.

"Ohhh, aren't you a poor thing," she cooed, grinning ecstatically as it began to weakly purr.

Taking the cat's accessories and paying for it, Daphne sighed in resignation as she watched her little sister with her new pet.

_Only Tori._

Pansy (fondling Astoria for purely Draco's benefit) demanded to know the cat's name.

With a thoughtful, solemn expression Astoria regarded her kitten.

"What about Bones?" Daphne suggested after a pause.

Astoria rolled her eyes. Her sister had _no _imagination.

When Draco spoke up, Astoria's face turned pink again. "Circe," he suggested. "After the sorceress."

But she was eleven now; she was about to go to _Hogwarts_. Her tongue would _not _tie, and she would _not _embarrass herself.

"Circe," she squeaked in agreement.

* * *

He may not have clapped the loudest, but when she was sorted into Slytherin _(please_ple-ase_letmebewithhim)_ his satisfied grin was the only one that mattered.

He even stayed up with her the first night in the Slytherin common room, when he found her crying and homesick at two in the morning.

It was _his_ words she held on to and cherished for the rest of her life as he wrapped her in his arms and told her to hold her chin up; told her to be strong for her family and to never do anything that could hurt them, because in the end family was all that mattered. Family was all that was left.

She didn't realize until much later he was speaking to himself then, as much as to her.

* * *

The first time she came upon Draco and Pansy snogging, Astoria flew to the nearest broom cupboard before they could spot her and skipped Herbology to cry her eyes out.

"Oh, Tori," Daphne sighed when Astoria later brokenly described her heartache, "he's _two years_ older than you, sweety."

"I-I know," Astoria hiccupped, angrily swiping her sleeve across her eyes. Circe, now completely healthy and even a bit fat under months of Astoria's care, lovingly kneaded her mistress' clothes and alternately purred and mewed in concern.

"J-just go," Astoria begged, too humiliated to be witnessed as she pulled Circe to her chest in a tight embrace that made the grey cat squeak. Daphne sighed again but left her sister's bed, closing the curtains behind her.

She was eleven years old, and it was the first time she'd ever faced a reality outside of her sheltered daydreams that had hurt her.

When she thought of him- how tightly he held on to her when he first taught her to ride a broom, how brave he had been when he broke his ankle ice-skating one winter and the bone poked through his skin like it was tissue paper, how he had never derailed her like the others- when she thought of all that and how she had worshipped his ability with a wand and marveled his skill on a broom, she was fiercely disgusted with herself in the way only an eleven-year-old can be.

_He never even _liked_ me. _

She was so humiliated; she could only see herself the way Daphne and Draco's friends must see her- as a pathetic, worthless little puppy.

So Tori moved on, she gave Draco Malfoy up and tried to spend her time making a few friends instead of endlessly shadowing him. And although the feelings stayed, Astoria could never bring herself to be disgusted with _him_.

Until another first, one year later, the first time she caught him torturing a new Gryffindor.

* * *

The pathetic, weak screams had reached her ears and chilled Astoria to the bone. Without thinking she flew down the deserted corridors, around a corner and pulled herself to a breathless stop before she could smack into his two beefy friends, who were flanking him.

It took her a second to comprehend the scene. His wand and his malicious sneer was pointed at a writhing, bloody boy with a Gryffindor scarf and wet face.

"DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!" Astoria screeched when he didn't stop, when she realized it wasn't a mistake. Draco jumped like a cat and dropped his wand, and all three of them turned to eye her incredulously as she ran to kneel by the sobbing first year on the cold stone.

"Tori?" Draco's voice was shaky as he bent to retrieve his fallen wand. "Wha-"

"What the HELL were you doing?" she interrupted fiercely, using language she never had before, as before she had never felt so blood-throbbingly murderous.

"Are you alright?" Astoria asked the first-year in a much softer voice, ignoring the spluttering of the boys behind her.

The Gryffindor nodded courageously and thanked her with the relief in his earthy brown eyes.

"What's your name?" she asked gently, using her robe to wipe his face quite motherly, despite the fact she was just a year older.

"D-Dennis Creevey," the boy squeaked.

"His father's a milkman," Crabbe guffawed nastily. It would have taken much less than that to bring Astoria's temper back full-force. As it was, she left Dennis and sprang towards the trio like a tigress. They had never seen her so enraged, and even backed up a step or two.

"What in Merlin's bloody name were you _doing_, Malfoy?" Astoria demanded harshly, striding toward him until they were nearly nose-to-chest.

"Tori, Tori," he tried to placate her, actually having the decency to look slightly alarmed, "it was just a bit of fun-"

"FUN?!" she cried, all self-control lost, "you call this FUN?! He's a damn FIRST YEAR, MALFOY! The Draco I looked up to would _never_ have done this to a first-year, no matter his blood status, no matter he was a Gryffindor. What _happened _to you?!" The look on her face was incredulous, like she could see her rusty idol crumbling before her very eyes.

Draco began to lose his patience and it showed. "You're twelve years old, Astoria," he nearly sneered, "it's time you grew up and realized the Draco you looked up to is gone. _He _grew up."

Tears of betrayel and anger filled her eyes and she reached up to slap him so hard her own palm stung.

"I guess so," she spat, and turned her heel on him to help Dennis to the infirmary.

* * *

The friend she'd lost in Draco (if one could even call him her 'friend') Astoria found in the Hopsital Wing- Madam Pomfrey. When Astoria brought Dennis to her, the Hogwarts nurse took one look at both of them and plopped the two on separate beds.

Once she was told Dennis would be alright and was sleeping it off, her anger wore off to be replaced by a trembling sort of shock that appalled her, but even so she couldn't keep the tears from her eyes.

_Draco. Draco _had done this to a _first-year._

A_ first-year._

Dennis' screams echoed through her mind on replay and she couldn't stop seeing his battered body and Draco's sneer and Draco's wand whether her eyes were shut or open. She was too upset to even take any interest in Pomfrey healing Dennis.

Comforting arms wrapped around her and she leaned into the warm, slightly plump figure of Madam Pomfrey.

"There, there, Astoria," Pomfrey cooed, rocking her back and forth. "He's going to be alright, honey."

Worn-out, she hated herself for it but whispered anyway, "it was Draco Malfoy."

"I know," Pomfrey assured her gently, "Dennis told me. He's with the Headmaster right now."

She wanted to hate him so badly and part of her did, but the other half couldn't forget who he used to be. Or, perhaps, who she _thought_ he used to be.

"I looked up to him," Astoria mumbled, and the tears started again. When Pomfrey released her and got up to get her a Calming Draught, Astoria accepted in numbly.

Pomfrey sighed and sat back down beside the girl, stroking her hair softly. She had nothing to say to comfort her.

The Hospital Wing doors burst open and two redheaded twins entered, pushing a floating, unconscious girl between them.

"It's Angelina, Pom," the slightly taller one gasped.

Pomfrey was up in a flash, orchestrating getting the girl onto a bed.

"A bludger hit her during practice, she fell off her broom," the other Weasley boy explained. Astoria winced at the guilt written all over both their faces and felt better enough to creep over to Angelina's bedside.

When Madam Pomfrey needed a Sleeping Draught after assessing Angelina's broken arm, without thinking Astoria raced to the cupboards under her direction and retrieved the correct amount.

"You need to go now, Astoria," Pomfrey instructed. "I have to rebreak her bone and you don't need to see that."

Astoria's face pinkened with earnesty. "I can help," she promised, "I've read all about it and I want to be a Healer. Please," she pleaded, even moving to hold the sleeping Quidditch player in a way that would best help Pomfrey when the nurse snapped Angelina's arm back into place.

With narrow eyes Pomfrey studied the twelve-year-old for a heartbeat.

_What the hell, _she decided.

"Don't get in my way," she warned sternly.

"I won't," Astoria assured with a confidence her family and friends would have been surprised to see.

After that, Astoria spent all her free time in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey. At first, she was only allowed to do simple tasks- organizing new shipments of medicine, going with Pomfrey to the nearby apothecary to collect herbs and potion, that sort of thing.

Once Snape praised to Pomfrey Astoria's talent with potions, however, she had the girl brewing the easiest ones. When Astoria completed those perfectly, under the nurse's watchful eye she would brew each potion Pomfrey gave her the instructions for, until the end of the year came and Astoria could successfully complete even the hardest of healing remedies.

And Pomfrey taught her not just potions, but healing spells as well- from straightfoward ones like _Episkey_ to more singsong, complex ones like _Vulnera Sanentur. _

Although the nurse never allowed Astoria to be directly responsible for healing students, if it was a major injury (usually from Quidditch) Pomfrey would allow Astoria to assist her with the necessary potions and occasionally, even the smaller wounds, while Pomfrey took care of the big problem.

Astoria thought of it as her healing others, but under Pomfrey's understanding and patient tutelage, she herself was being healed. She stopped stressing over Draco, stopped hating herself and caring what others must think of her. She lived for those precious hours with Pomfrey, would even do her homework in an empty infirmary bed just to be able to spend more time and be there if an emergency came up.

* * *

When summer came and Astoria returned home, her parents didn't understand her obsession with the materials Pomfrey had given her to work with. They told her she was spending too much time locked up in her room, that she needed to get out and be with children her own age.

"You're going to turn queer," her mother warned, "and _then_, how will you ever find a husband?"

"Yes," Father agreed, "whatever happened to your boyfriend?" He was trying to alleviate the awkwardness his wife's words brought on, but uknowingly made it worse.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Astoria said stiffly and wished desperately they would leave her and her room.

"He wouldn't wait for you, eh?" her father asked, his eyes twinkling as he tried in his own way to be sympathetic.

She said she didn't know what he was talking about, and her absent-minded mother, who wanted Draco to marry Daphne, not Astoria, finally turned to other matters.

"Daphne's told us things are getting worse at Hogwarts," she said. "We never wanted to do this, but as you're both fluent in French... We might have to send you to Beauxbatons."

Astoria froze. _What?_

"It's because we don't want you and Daphne all mixed up in this nonsense," her father tried to explain.

"W-what nonsense?" Her voice was dry. She had spent so much time in the Hospital Wing, she truly didn't know.

But her parents explained, and she remembered how Malfoy had tortured Dennis.

It hadn't been just an arrogant fourth-year picking on a first-year for an ego-boost. _Adults_ were doing this to muggles and muggle-borns, too, and to anyone who tried to protect them.

Father told her the Ministry was trying to cover it up, but Lucius Malfoy had already hinted...

"Hush!" Mrs. Greengrass interrupted her husband, kicking him in the shin. "She's twelve years old. She doesn't need to hear anything about that."

Her head was spinning too much for Astoria to pay attention to her mother.

Beaux_batons? _

"But-" she spluttered, and was interrupted.

"It won't be just yet," Father assured her, taking in her shocked expression. "You'll go to Hogwarts this fall, at the very least."

But _Beauxbatons?_

* * *

And when Dumbledore was murdered, her parents made good on their word to send their two daughters to the French academy of magic.

The first time Astoria stood before the magnificent teaching palace, she didn't feel awed- she felt empty and hollow. Her days at Hogwarts seemed eons ago. She hadn't wanted to leave, but neither had she wanted to stay with the intensity Daphne displayed (she had a boyfriend, Theodore Nott.)

But in a small way, as she climbed the ornate staircase leading to the huge, golden doors, Astoria did feel cowardly for turning her back on her friends. For leaving them in the dangerous place Hogwarts and England was becoming, despite the fact she had no choice in the matter.

When it was realized how reserved and laid-back Astoria was, her newness wore off and she was left to herself. Because she was out of the crowds, not in them, Astoria had the opportunity to observe, and eventually befriend another intensely-shy girl left out of the fiercely competitive social circles.

Astoria's French wasn't as good as her mother thought, and Gabrielle's English was garbled. But even so, the first time Astoria healed a spot on Gabrielle's face, the French _fille_ took the English girl underneath her wings and the two were bonded like metals.

They spent many an evening studying together for the harsh Beauxbatons classes and tests. During the free time, Gabrielle's shell was discarded as she enthusiastically dragged Astoria through the palace's halls, revealing magnificent ballroom after magnificent ballroom and brokenly describing the famous couples of Beauxbatons.

"Have yoo evahr loved a boy?" Gabrielle wanted to know, after recounting her favorite romantic novel where the premier wizarding family's daughter ran off with a muggle into the sunset. The two were in Gabrielle's favorite place at the school- a room filled with paintings of gorgeous men.

Astoria adored Gabrielle more than anyone she had ever met, but she was at a loss to answer.

She _had_ loved Draco, but how could she explain it wasn't _Draco_ she had loved, but an illusion based around his face; his childhood? _Her _childhood?

"I zee," Gabrielle said sympathetically after a long silence, "but maybe eet just wasn't ze right time."

She smiled sadly, gazing at a portrait of a romantic count but remembering how long it had taken for her broken life to heal. How weak she had been, how she had grown, and it didn't hurt anymore.

"I guess you're right," Astoria finally admitted.

She was fourteen now, and extensive reading and the company of older friends had matured her mind and given it a depth Gabrielle's lacked. And her mind wasn't the only improved thing about her- age and puberty had added curves to her willow figure, soft lines she hadn't had in her rather gangly years at Hogwarts.

"When all dis nonzenze eez over at Hogwartz, and you go back, will you misz me?" Gabrielle wanted to know, as she watched Astoria pack for the summer holidays which she would spend with her family.

Dropping a dress and its hanger into her suitcase, Astoria turned and gave Gabrielle a tight hug.

"Bien sur, je vais vous manqué," she promised, causing her friend's face to light up with delight.

"You have been paying atteention to my leszons!" Gabrielled cried in delight. "Et vous m'ecrivez?"

"Tous jours," Astoria agreed, kissing Gabrielle's pale cheek. "Aussi longtemps que vous m'ecrire."

"Toujours," Gabrielle swore, returning the gesture to Astoria's forehead.

* * *

_Bien sur, je vais vous manqué_ of course I'll miss you

_Et vous m'ecrivez _and you'll write me?

_Tous jours _every day

_aussi longtemps que vous m'ecrivez _as long as you write me

_toujours _always

* * *

**A/N: **lemme know the inner workings of your mind and emotions and feels as you read this blah blah blah. seriously though. Part 2 is coming whenever depending on if this gets a reaction, otherwise I'll take my time or just won't publish it.


	2. author'snote

I'm going on hiatus as I've gotten the chance to travel the country with a professional dog handler and I'll be too busy to update :/ however in my spare time I *might* be able to write *some* as I have the endings of my two stories pretty much filled out, so if you're interested in them pm me or something and I can send them to you if you feel like it as I write them (which will be, as I said, slowly.)

One last thing: My betas 'Ser Serendipity' and 'before he exits' have been amazing and fabulous and supportive and I want to give them a HUGE thankyou.


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